Page 83 of Spiced!

And I was fine with it.

More than fine.

I was elated.

My phone buzzed.

Puck’s Dad: I finish at six. There’s a place I know in West Tampa. I’ll pick you up.

I couldn’t stop the full-body grin that shivered through me as I stared at my phone screen. Mofongo, who was sitting on the sidewalk looking at a pigeon with extreme predatory focus, glanced up at my shift in energy.

“He kissed me,” I told him, my grin widening painfully.

Mofongo looked back at the pigeon, the puppy equivalent of a disinterested shrug.

“In the exam room,” I said. “He just grabbed my arm and kissed me. Brendan, the guy who needed three Saturdays and a note on a bar tab just to give me his number, kissed me in his office.”

The pigeon tired of my pup’s attention and flapped away. Mofongo watched it go with the disappointment of a dog who had believed, until the last possible second, that the situation might resolve in his favor.

“I stammered,” I went on, unbothered by my dog’s lack of interest in the conversation. “I said yes multiple times in two different languages.”

Mofongo finally looked up at me again.

“Don’t,” I said.

He sneezed.

“Thank you,” I said. “Very helpful.”

I texted Brendan back.

Me: I’ll be ready. Don’t be late. Some of us have been waiting.

His response took forty-five seconds.

Brendan: I might be slow, but I’m never late.

Me: You were eleven seconds late to our first Sunday.

Brendan: I was recalibrating.

Me: Right. Sure you were.

Brendan: Adrian.

Me: Yeah?

Brendan: I’ll be there at six. Wear something frilly.

Right there in the parking lot, I laughed out loud. Mofongo stared, then cocked his head, one massive ear hitting the pavement, which made me laugh even harder.

At the car, Mofongo immediately attempted to hop into the front seat.

“Not now, papi,” I said, moving him gently to the back.

He went without argument, which was either a sign of growth or a sign he understood the gravity of the moment. I chose to believe it was both.

Chapter 22